Clarity
by R.G. Rudolf
Summary: This is my take on Ana and Christian's journey - I own nothing, just taking E. L. James' characters on a drive. This is my first fanfic and I'm not sure where I'm going with this story. I know nothing about BDSM so that will probably not happen, but there will probably be lemons. No cheating. HEA.
1. Chapter 1

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_I curse internally as I run up the thousand stairs leading to the doors of City Hall. I'm late. I'm so late, and Mr. Herd is not going to be pleased. It's not all my fault. That darned Kate insisted on setting me up on a coffee date with her new co-worker Todd Charland. We met at four in the afternoon. The coffee shop was only fifteen minutes away from City Hall. I figured I had enough time to meet Todd and get to City Hall by five o'clock. And it wasn't bad, as blind dates go. Todd was funny, and charming, and when he asked to see me again, I didn't say "yes" out of my perpetual desire to please everyone, I said "yes" because I had a good time with him. Kate was right, Todd was a great guy, and by the time I remembered I had to be at work, it was already five thirty.

I have only worked at City Hall for about a month now. The city recently decided to host late hours by appointment at City Hall on Mondays and Thursdays so people could still come in and pay their registrations and order birth certificates and apply for marriage licenses without needing to take time off work. When I saw the job posting, I jumped at it. An evening job would be perfect, I could still keep looking for full time work, and I could probably continue working at City Hall even if I got a nine-to-five. And, I needed the cash. Luckily, I didn't need to pay rent, Kate's parents owned the apartment we lived in, but a girl had to eat, and fund her Tazo tea habit, and buy tampons. Why are tampons so freaking expensive?

I nearly trip at the top of the stairs and curse these infernal high heels that Kate made me wear for this date. I run through the glass doors, across the lobby and into one of the elevators, managing to catch it right before the doors close. I breathe a sigh of relief, pressing the button for the lower level. I rummage around inside my purse for my name tag and put it on.

Anastasia R. Steele

Junior Archivist

The elevator dings and the doors open into a long hallway with numerous doors on each side. Most are shut, but a couple are still open. I sprint down the hallway as fast as I can without tripping on the ridiculous high heels. _Never again_, I tell myself. Kate can set me up on another blind date, but she can keep her fashion advice to herself from now on.

Suddenly, I'm on the floor, and my purse goes flying. I have collided into something. No someone. Someone very solid, with piercing grey eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" I sputter, and he grins a sardonic grin.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, and his deep voice is deliciously sensual.

"No, I, I'm fine," I stammer, gathering about my belongings that had spilled out of my purse. My wallet. My notebook. Several pens. My apartment keys. A Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookie still in its red wrapping. A box of Tazo sweet orange tea. A box of tampons. I redden as I stuff it all back into the purse, inwardly cursing myself. Why am I so clumsy?

He gives me a hand, pulling me up so I'm standing beside him. He is very tall. His hair is a lovely copper color, and his eyes the most brilliant gray I have ever seen. And he smells like… like… I can't quite place the scent, but it is clean, and crisp, and delectable all at once. I take a deep breath. I want to breathe him in. I want to lose myself in his scent. What the hell is happening to me?

"Anastasia R. Steele, Junior Archivist," he's reading my name tag.

"That would be me," I say with a giggle, and his lips twitch. He steps back, and I notice the other man then. He is tall too. And muscular too. His hair is cut very short. He reminds me of my father Ray. He has the same look about him. An air of discipline hangs around him like it does around people who've served in the military. I'd bet my last dollar this man was ex-military.

"I believe I'm here to see you, Ms. Steele," gray-eyes says.

"Oh," is all that comes out of my mouth. He's here to see me? I am pretty sure I have never met him before. I would remember that face. That voice. Why would he be here to see me? "Forgive me, have we met before?" I ask.

"No."

"But you're here to see me?" I'm confused, and it must show on my face. I can't decipher the look he gives me.

"I have an appointment with the archives department. 5.30 PM. My assistant spoke to a Mr. Herd who said there would be someone here to meet me. My assistant is never wrong."

_Fuck_! I was late. And he must think I'm an idiot. Of course, he has an appointment – that's why people usually come to City Hall after hours.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Mr. Herd is my boss. I'm not usually late."

"I would hope not, Ms. Steele."

I lead him down the hallway to the door at the very end marked "Archives". I punch in the code for the door, and it unlocks into a large, windowless room. The lights automatically come on, revealing a huge reception desk right by the door, and behind it are several desks – an open office layout. During the day, the place is buzzing with activity, but in the evenings, I'm usually the only one here.

"Please come in," I say, walking behind the reception desk and setting my purse down. I turn on the computer and log in with my credentials.

"You work alone in the evenings?" he asks, and there is disapproval in his voice.

"Yes," I answer as nonchalantly as I can. His voice is like liquid sex. Or what I would imagine liquid sex to be. It stirs me in unexpected places.

"Is that safe?" he growls at me.

"Sure. How can I help you, Mr…?" I look up at him expectantly.

"Grey," he says. "Christian Grey."

His eyes are like worlds upon themselves, I fear I could lose myself in them forever. Yup. I'm right to fear. He's holding my gaze. He's intense. He's inscrutable. And I am lost.


	2. Chapter 2

_Pull yourself together Steele_, I tell myself. My heart is racing. Galloping. I'm sure he can hear it. I have never had this reaction to anyone, ever. What is happening to me? Why can't I stop staring into his eyes? His brilliant, stormy gray eyes. They're beautiful. They're so deeply beautiful.

"Umm… How can I help you Mr. Grey?" I ask. My voice is timid, squeaky, like a little mouse. I _am_a mouse, and he… he is a lion. An apex predator. I can feel it in my bones, and it terrifies me, but it also thrills me a little.

"I am looking for information on a person," he says.

"What kind of information?" I ask.

"Any you can give me."

"There are a lot of laws regarding confidentiality, Mr. Grey, I'm not sure how much I can help you with" I say, and I see irritation gathering on his face. This is a man used to people jumping as soon as he says. He doesn't appreciate bureaucracy, I can tell.

"I am looking for information on my birth parents," he says. "I was adopted."

"Oh, I see," I swallow.

I pull up the computer program with the adoption data and type in the name "Christian Grey". Almost immediately, I get a response. _No results found_. I frown and bite my lower lip. Did he just groan? No, of course not. I must be hearing things. I type in "Christian Gray". _No results found_.

"Mr. Grey, I can't find any records of you. How do you spell your name?" I ask.

He sighs audibly.

"I was born and adopted in Detroit, Ms. Steele. My records would not be in your system."

"But – "

"The cra… My birth mother, Ella Smith, I have learned that she was born in Seattle. I would like copies of any records you have on her. Births, marriages, anything. I was told official copies could only be released to immediate family members."

"Okay," I say, typing "Ella Smith" into the search records. _151 records found_.

"Do you have any other information on her? Her date of birth? Her social security number?"

He turns to Muscles McMuscles. "Taylor," he says.

Taylor steps to the counter and hands me a manila folder. In it is a single page. A death certificate for Ella Smith issued in Detroit. There's not much information on it. Date of birth, unknown. Place of birth, unknown. It lists an approximate date and time of death, and the cause of death. _Myocardial infarction precipitated by cocaine overdose_. Under family it lists: one known. A son. Approximately four years old. I look up at Mr. Grey. _Christian_. The sadness I feel for him must show in my eyes, for his face hardens.

"That's all the information we have on her," he says.

"There's nothing on this death certificate I can use to narrow down the list," I say. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind then," his voice is short, and he turns to leave. Suddenly, I have an idea. His birth mother died in Detroit. I can eliminate everyone whose death was recorded in Washington State.

"Mr. Grey, wait," I say. I tell him my plan, and he gives me a smile. A genuine one. It lights up the room. I smile back and then I turn to the computer and type in my new search. _81 records found_. I filter the results by date of birth and look at him – he can't be older than thirty. I filter out everyone who would be older than seventy. _16 records found_. I filter out everyone who would be younger than forty. _3 records found_. Much more manageable. One of the three has a marriage record attached to her file.

"Was your birth mother ever married, Mr. Grey?" I ask.

"I highly doubt it," he says.

That eliminates one. I pull up the long form birth certificate of the next Ella Smith on the list. She would be fifty years old, if she was still alive. This could be her. Oh wait. Under race, it lists African American. He doesn't look mixed race at all. But who am I to know? Genetics are weird.

"She wasn't African American, was she?" I ask.

"No. I remember her. She was white. Like me."

Well, that just leaves one. Ella Marie Smith. Born in Seattle to Vivian Jane Smith and Brian Elwood Smith. I scroll down the page. There is a DCYF record associated with her. I can't access it without Mr. Herd's authorization. Further down the page, I see a notation. "Endangered Missing Person".

"I think this is her," I say, looking up at him. The expression on his face is undecipherable.

"Can I have a copy of the record?" He asks in a gruff voice.

Technically, I'm supposed to see proof of relationship before giving him any information. But he had said all he had was the death certificate, and that didn't actually have his name on it.

"Mr. Grey, I'm so sorry for the red tape and everything, but do you have anything showing she is your birth mother? Anything at all?" I ask.

"No. It might be in the adoption papers, but my parents have those."

Screw it. No one will know anyway. Mr. Herd is probably gone by now. I'll have to use my code for the printer, but I doubt anyone will be taking a close look at the printer records. I hit "Print" on Ella's records, then decide to print Vivian and Brian Smith's as well.

"I'm not supposed to give you these records Mr. Grey, so please keep that in mind," I say to him with a smile.

"It'll be our little secret," he smiles back.

"There's a DCYF notation in her file. I can't access that." I tell him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that social services had to intervene in the family situation. She may have been in foster care for a while. And she's also listed as an endangered missing person. I'm sorry Mr. Grey."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he tells me.

The papers are done printing. I walk to the printer and staple them together before handing them to him. He immediately passes them to Muscles McMuscles… Taylor, who puts them in the manila folder alongside Ella's death certificate.

"How long do you need to be here?" he asked me.

"We close at eight," I say.

"It's not safe for you to be here all alone." He tells me.

It's sweet that he's concerned, but I've been working here for a month now and nothing has ever made me feel unsafe.

"Taylor, who is still at GEH?" he asks McMuscles.

"Ryan is, sir." Taylor answers.

"Tell him to get over here and keep Ms. Steele company until she is ready to leave,"

"Yes sir," Taylor says, and pulls out a phone.

"I'm sorry who-what now is keeping me company?" I ask.

"Ryan is one of my CPOs, Ms. Steele," he says.

"CPO?" I'm so confused.

"Personal protection," he explains curtly.

What? I don't need personal protection. Who is this man? Why does he need personal protection? And why does he think I need it too? I've made my way in the world just fine without a bodyguard, I mean I am clumsy, god knows I can't tell my left foot from my right, but that's no reason for a "CPO".

"I don't need a bodyguard, Mr. Grey," I tell him, and the confusion is evident in my voice, and the look I give him.

"It's no trouble at all, he's two minutes away, and you won't even know he's here!"

He turns to leave. I'm about to argue with him some more, but someone else enters the office. I look at the clock on the wall. Six fifteen. My next appointment is here, and Mr. Grey is gone. Why do I feel so bereft? Get it together Steele. You've got a job to do. I turn to the man who has just entered the office. He has piercing dark blue eyes. His hair is red and worn in a long ponytail. He's wearing studs in both ears.

"Hi," I say in my brightest cheeriest voice, plastering a friendly smile on my face.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Jack Hyde."

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and follows. I'm going to try to update maybe once a week - more often if I can but I got school and work this summer so it might not happen more than once a week.**


	3. Chapter 3

"How can I help you Mr. Hyde?" I ask.

He's leaning way too far over the desk, invading my personal space. He makes me uncomfortable.

"I got an email that my vehicle registration was up for renewal. I was hoping to do that today."

Vehicle registration? That's not me. That's not the department of archives. That would be Sally down the hall in Vehicle and Vessel Licensing. It should have said that in his email.

"Ummm, I'm Vital Records and Archives, Mr. Hyde. Registrations are down the hall. Room 12B."

"I know, I know," he says holding his hands up. "There was no one there so I was hoping you could help me."

"Did you make an appointment?"

"No, did I need to?"

"Yes, appointments are required for after-hours services. You'll have to go online and make one, with the right department."

Well, if he isn't my six fifteen, then my six fifteen is late.

"Are you sure you can't help me?" he asks, flashing me a smile. I'm sure the smile is meant to be charming, but he gives me the creeps. And the smile just adds to that. I don't trust this man. I have no reason not to, but my gut has never failed me. And something is off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone walk past the open door. He's wearing a dark suit. He reminds me of Muscles McMuscles. I think he might be the personal protection Mr. Grey was talking about. I'd thought it a ridiculous proposition, but somehow, I'd glad he's there.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hyde. The best I can do, is go into the system and set you up with an appointment right now. Would that be OK?"

"Yes, please," he says, touching my hand in what I presume is gratitude. I pull it back involuntarily, and his face hardens.

I log into the appointment system and pull up the calendar for Vehicle and Vessel Licensing.

"Can I have your vehicle registration number please?" I ask, and he gives it to me.

That's odd. When I type the number into the system, it doesn't show as due for renewal. In fact, that registration was renewed only three months ago. I read the number back to him and ask him if he's sure.

"Yes, that's it," he confirms.

I shake my head. "You're not due for a renewal Mr. Hyde. Your registration was renewed three months ago." I tell him.

He looks surprised, but I can tell that he's faking it.

"Well, silly me. I must have read the email wrong."

"Mm-hmm," I mutter.

"Well, I guess I'll be going. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"That's OK. We're here to serve the public." I answer.

"Hey, before I go. I was wondering, was that Christian Grey who was just in here before I was?" The Christian Grey?"

What does he mean "The Christian Grey"? Was my Christian a big deal or something? huh… _my Christian_? Really Steele? He gives you one smoldering look and now he's your Christian?

"Ummm… Err…" I shake my head. "Christian Grey? Who's that?"

"You don't know who Christian Grey is?" his voice is skeptical, like he doesn't believe me. I shake my head again.

"Well, what did he want?"

"I can't tell you that Mr. Hyde. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, come on, not even a hint?"

I shake my head.

He shrugs. "You really don't know who Christian Grey is? Do you live under a rock?" he laughs.

"No. I've only just moved to Seattle," I explain.

"Oh, where from?"

Darn it Steele. Now you're inviting conversation. You should just have shaken your head and asked him to leave. Well, there's no reason to not be polite.

"I just graduated from WSU this summer."

"And you're working at city hall?"

"Yeah, well temporarily. I'm hoping to find a job in publishing. I've sent in a bunch of applications to all the publishing houses in Seattle, and I'm just waiting to hear back."

"Huh. Interesting." He says. "Well, I won't take up more of your time Ms. Steele. Goodnight."

I breathe a sigh of relief when he walks out. I don't know what it was about him, but I hope I never have to see him again. I look over at the clock. It's now six thirty five. I guess my appointment was a no show. There is no one else on the calendar, but I'm required to stay in until eight o'clock anyway. Just in case someone tries to call or something. I don't mind. Suddenly I remember the CPO.

"Umm, Ryan?" I call out, unsure.

A burly man walks in, another ex-military type.

"Yes, ma'am?" he says.

"You don't have to stay. I'm perfectly fine here." I feel guilty that he's stuck here in the basement of City Hall because of me. I'm sure he's got better things to be doing.

"Mr. Grey said I was to make sure you made it home safely, ma'am," he answered. I could tell from his tone that nothing I said would make him leave. Very well then.

"Who is Mr. Grey, Ryan?" I ask.

He looks at me in confusion.

"Do you not know Mr. Grey?" he asks. I can tell where his mind is going. Why is he here guarding me, keeping me safe, if I don't even know his boss?

"I just met Mr. Grey this evening," I tell him. "Who is he, what does he do?"

"He's a businessman, ma'am. He's very successful."

Huh. A businessman. From the bodyguards and the way Jack Hyde harped on and on about me not knowing him. I would have thought he was a YouTube sensation or a local TV star or some big shot at Amazon or Boeing or something. Businessman. That's… tame, all things considered. Although, I'd have to admit, he looked young. That's probably a good thing. We're probably not looking at a Warren Buffet level of success at his age. Maybe I have a shot.

_A shot at what? _My inner goddess sneers.

I pull out the novel I keep in a drawer in the desk and find my bookmark.

"If you're staying, you can find a seat, make yourself comfortable," I tell Ryan. "I have to stay until eight. I promise I won't tell Mr. Grey if you choose to leave though."

"I'll wait outside until you're ready to leave, ma'am," he answers.

At eight, I turn off the computer, collect my bag and leave. There is a black Audi parked outside. Ryan indicates that I should get in, but I hesitate. I don't want this man I've just met controlling my life like this. I love walking home. It's my time to reflect on my day. And honestly, it's the only exercise I get.

"Oprah says not to allow yourself to be taken to the second location," I quip, and Ryan breaks out into a deep belly laugh.

"I'd rather walk," I tell him.

Ryan walks with me all 20 minutes to the apartment. We don't say another word to each other, but nevertheless, I'm glad for his company.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading and following and reviewing. I know this was a short one, but I'm already working on the next chapter and hoping to post that one soon. This one was meant to be a transition I guess. Also: someone guessed right that Hyde has been following Grey around.**


	4. Chapter 4

It's been two weeks since I last saw him. Two weeks since Christian Grey looked at me with those stormy gray eyes and I lost myself. I have not seen or heard from him since then, but every day I've had to work, Ryan has been there to make sure I'm safe. Nothing exciting has happened since then. Everything has been routine. Boring. Poor guy must be clawing his eyes out with boredom every time he has to spend three hours in the basement of City Hall watching over some random woman because his boss is… what is he? Overprotective? He doesn't know me at all so why would he feel protective of me?

Ryan is a man of few words, but we've developed a tentative friendship over the last week. Well, as much of a friendship as two people in our position can have, I suppose. He holds back a lot. He has to stay professional. But I've learned a few details about him. He was born in Seattle. He's lived here all his life, except for the three years he served in the army. After his discharge, he came back home to Seattle, and got certified as a personal protection officer. He worked temporary gigs for a while before he got the job at GEH. He says the pay is good, and the benefits are excellent. He even gets a premium dental plan. I would kill for dental right now. Well, that's another thing I've learned about Christian Grey – he makes sure the people who work for him are well taken care of.

I've spent a lot of time googling him. Looking at pictures of him. Watching videos of him speak at different events. Holy crap the man is a billionaire. He's been so successful so young. They say he's ruthless in business. But in the few videos I've seen of him speaking, its rarely about business. He talks about clean energy, and food sustainability, and ethical innovation. He sounds passionate when he talks about these things. I find myself hanging onto every word.

Kate caught me mooning at pictures of him online and interrogated me until I revealed that he had come into City Hall. I told her I was just curious. She pointed out that he was probably gay. There are no pictures of him with any women online, except for his mother, his sister, and his VP Ros. At first I wonder if he and Ros could be a thing. She's older than he is, but not by much. But I am quickly robbed of that idea. When I google her, tons of pictures pop up of her and her partner Gwen attending different events together. Maybe Kate is right. Maybe he is gay. That would just be my luck. Romance has never worked out for me.

I'd thought Todd Charland and I had hit it off, but then he ghosted me. And eventually Kate found out he had gotten back together with his long-term on again off again girlfriend. Apparently, they had been in the "off again" phase of their relationship when Kate set us up on the blind date. Kate is furious with herself for introducing me to him, so she insists she has to take me shopping to make up for it. I try resisting but I know its futile. Kate Kavanagh can never be denied.

And that's how I find myself at Nordstrom, sitting in the dressing room while Kate tries on dress after expensive dress. We walked the ten minutes here from our apartment, and I'm wondering if Kate plans to walk back with all the bags. She's buying a lot. I've let her talk me into getting two nice dresses that will be good for work, once I finally get a full-time job. But that's it for me.

"The red one looks really good, Kate," I tell her in admiration. Kate could make a potato sack look good. She so effortlessly glamorous. The red dress suits her well. It's a skater dress with three quarter sleeves and sheer detailing on the bottom.

"It'll look good with that sun hat you just had to have." I tell her, and she laughs.

"I think I'm done here; do you want to get some lunch?" she asks.

Now that she mentions it, I am kind of hungry. I haven't eaten anything today. I did have a cup of tea this morning when I got up, but that was it. There are no calories in tea, and we've been shopping all morning. I've worked up an appetite. We're discussing where to get lunch when my phone dings. I look at the screen and see that I have a new email. It's from SIP, one of the publishing houses I had applied to. As I read the email, a smile breaks out on my face.

"Good news?" Kate asks.

"Yes! I got an interview at SIP!" I say, jumping up and down, screaming in excitement. Kate is screaming and jumping right along with me.

"I knew it Ana! You're going to kill it at this interview, and you're going to get the job!" She gives me a big hug.

"Thanks, Kate," I tell her, hugging her back.

"Now we really have to get lunch to celebrate! And maybe drinks. Lots of drinks!" Kate loves any excuse to get a buzz.

It's too early for drinks," I gently remind her.

"Speak for yourself Steele, personally, it's never too early for a mimosa!"

We decide to drop off the bags at our apartment first before going out to lunch. Kate hands me her credit card to check out while she pulls up her phone to request an Uber because she refuses to walk with all of the bags.

"Uber will be here in two minutes," Kate says, walking back to the checkout counter. She grabs some of the bags, and I grab some others and we prepare to head home.

"Can we go to Palomino?" I ask. "I'm feeling like some Italiano."

"Sure!" Kate readily agrees, and I know she's really more excited about their bar than the Italian food, but that's fine with me.

"Hey, isn't that Christian Grey?" Kate whispers suddenly in my ear, and I look up.

Holy crap! He's here.

He's about to take a step towards me, when a woman walks up to him and touches him on the arm. She's blonde, and gorgeous. _Is that his girlfriend?_I wonder.

"We'll send everything to Escala, Mr. Grey," the woman says.

"Thank you, Ms. Acton," he replies curtly, then adds, "Please excuse me."

He's walking towards me. He's getting closer. Oh my god he's walking towards me! I am screaming internally. He is holding me in place with his gaze. I can't move. My mouth is dry. I don't think I could speak even if I wanted to. My heart is racing. My stomach is in knots. Why does he have this effect on me?

"We meet again, Ms. Steele," he says when he's close enough.

"Ummm…" Dear god, I am an idiot. I sound like an idiot. Kate nudges me with her elbow, and I regain as much of my composure as I can.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt and I swear I can _hear_Kate rolling her eyes.

"What everyone does at Nordstrom, Ms. Steele. Shopping for clothes."

Kate sniggers.

"I… uhh.."

Kate takes pity on me.

"Hi, I'm Kate. Ana's roommate. And you're Christian Grey."

"Hello, Kate," he says, but he doesn't take his eyes off me. Oh my gosh, they're an even more brilliant gray than I remembered. And his face. The photos on google don't do it justice. He is so incredibly handsome. He's dressed casually, in a shirt and slacks, both look luxurious though. I bet they cost a pretty penny. I may be wrong, but I think he likes me too. He and Kate are talking about her father. He's CEO of Kavanagh Media. Apparently Kate had met him before, once when Kate accompanied her dad to an event and Christian happened to be there. He doesn't seem to remember her though, but he graciously apologizes for the slight.

The conversation between them dies down, and there's a moment of awkward silence, and then Muscles McMuscles comes bounding up.

"Hi Taylor," I squeak.

"Ms. Steele," he nods, then he turns to Christian. "The car is ready, sir."

"Thank you, Taylor," Christian says. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Steele."

Oh no. He's leaving. And I've barely said a word to him. I'll probably never see him again. Urgh. Why am I so weird and awkward?

"What are you doing?" Kate growls at me out of the corner of her mouth.

"What do you mean?" I mutter back.

"Ana, you have been mooning over this guy since you met him. And now you're just going to let him walk away?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Shoot your shot Ana, for chrissake!"

I can't shoot my shot. What does that even mean? I mean, he's Christian Grey, and I'm me. I'm just me.

_So, what do you have to lose_? My inner goddess asks. And before I know it, I'm running after him. I burst through the doors and see him about to enter a black Audi. Jeez does this guy have a deal with Audi or something? Every time Ryan has come to keep me company at City Hall, he's had a different car. But all of them have been Audis.

"Christian!" I call out to get his attention, and then my ankle twists, and I fall flat on my face.

"Will you at least watch where you're going?!" He is almost instantly at my side helping me up. He sounds mad. Why is he mad at me? Does he think I fell on purpose? This was stupid. This was a stupid idea. Shoot my shot? Why do I ever think it's a good idea to take advice from Kate?

"Did you have something to say, Ms. Steele?" he asks, his voice softer. His hands are still holding my arms. I feel the electricity sparking where our skin meets. His expression is unreadable, but I think, I hope, he feels it too.

"Well," I say, "I was going to ask for your number?"

It comes out like a question. I hope Kate is happy, I took my shot. He's not answering me. Oh no. I should never have asked.

"Where's your phone?" he finally asks, and I produce it from my pocket, unlocking it with my thumb before handing it over.

He takes it in one hand, and maintains his hold on me with the other. He quickly types in a number and saves it in my contacts.

"Now you have my personal cell number," he says.

Then he presses dial and something, his phone I presume, buzzes in his pocket. "And now I have yours, Anastasia."

I love the way he says my name. The way his voice wraps over the sounds of the vowels and consonants. He makes my name sound sexy. I don't think anything about me is sexy, but the way he says "Anastasia" makes me sound like someone beautiful and exotic and extremely sexy. He hands me back my phone, and I put it back in my pocket. He's still holding on to my arm. He tips my head back, he presses his forehead to mine, he looks deep into my eyes.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispers.

Yes! My inner goddess is doing a happy dance. Well more of an ecstatic dance. I do have an effect on him. It's not just me. He feels it too.

_Kiss me. Kiss me._I will him, but I'm too shy to say the words out loud. The tension between us is palpable. I'm sure I could reach out and touch it if I tried.

"You really should stay away from me, Anastasia," he says. And then he's gone.

**A/N: Well, there it is. What's going to happen next? Will Christian call Ana? Will Ana call Christian? How will Ana's interview at SIP go? Will she get the job? As always thanks for reading and following and reviewing. I'm actually looking forward to getting back into the story and writing more so update will come within the next week, I hope!**

**Also: someone asked why Ana would tell Hyde she had just moved to Seattle – I just think when people are nervous, sometimes, they act opposite to expectations. Like she was trying her hardest to be polite while her creep-o-meter was like blaring, like "creep alert!" and maybe she said too much. I think a lot of people (women especially) are programmed that way and I say that from my personal experience where I've been too nice and in hindsight, I should have just told someone to shove off. But I guess it also didn't occur to me that telling someone you'd just moved to an area was saying too much. But I could see how that could be perceived that way. But at least she didn't tell him where she lived or anything like that. **


	5. Chapter 5

My finger has hovered over his number in my phone many, many times since I last saw him, but I haven't dared to call him. Or text him. It's just… he's Christian Grey. A mothereffing billionaire. One of the youngest ever self-made men. He's a HUGE deal. I'm sure he could have anyone in the world. Any woman he wanted. And I'm an underemployed college graduate with nothing to my name but an English lit degree and a mountain of student debt. What could he ever see in me? And if I'm being honest, he hasn't called me either. Or texted me. So, yeah.

I rise and shine early Monday morning. Today's my interview at SIP and I want to be punctual. I'm in and out of the shower in record time, and for the first time in ages, I blow dry my hair, then I pick out one of the dresses Kate bought me over the weekend. The plum. It's flattering without being revealing. Stylish and yet professional. Business casual. I brush my long dark tresses and tame them into a simple but elegant chignon I learned how to do from a Pinterest tutorial, then I put on some lipstick in a muted shade and a bit of mascara. Looking in the mirror, I'm happy with what I see.

When I leave the bathroom, Kate is waiting. How does she manage to look so glamorous in her PJs and with bedhead to boot?

"You look amazing, Ana," she gushes. "You're going to kill it today."

"Thanks, Kate," I answer, giving her a hug. "I've got to run, but dinner tonight?"

"It's a date!" She agrees, but before I can escape, she snaps a selfie of us both with her phone. "For my Instagram," she tells me, and I roll my eyes.

Normally, I'd have preferred to walk, but it's cloudy overhead and I can't risk getting caught in the rain, the drowned rat look would not make a good first impression, so I request an Uber. The ride over to SIP is short, and my driver is not chatty. I spend the few minutes I have in the car collecting my thoughts, going over my answers to different questions they might ask me.

"Thanks," I say to the driver when he drops me off, and he grunts in acknowledgement before driving off. Well, I appreciated not having my ear talked off during the ride so I give him a five star review.

I walk into the building and head for the reception desk. There is an attractive woman sitting behind the desk.

"Hi," I say tentatively, and she looks up from her computer.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she asks. She gives off a friendly vibe, immediately putting me at ease.

"I have an appointment at 9 o'clock with Elizabeth Morgan?" I say. I'm a little early, but that's just how I wanted things.

"I'll let her know you're here," she tells me, picking up the phone and dialing an extension. "Ms. Morgan, your nine am is here," she says into the phone, then after a moment, hangs up.

"Please take a seat, she'll be with you in a couple of minutes," she tells me, gesturing to the couches in the reception area.

"Thanks," I say with a smile.

"You're welcome. Oh, and I LOVE your bag!"

"Thank you!"

The bag is a deep pink Versace that complements the plum dress really well. I don't tell her that it's the TJ Maxx version of Versace. It cost me forty-five bucks at a clearance sale and is still the most expensive accessory I own.

It takes Elizabeth Morgan five minutes to come down for me. I follow her into the elevator, and she punches the fourth-floor button.

"Did you find us OK?" she asks me while we ride the elevator.

"Yes," I answer simply.

She's a squirrelly looking kind of person. She's probably in her thirties, early forties at the latest. She's not unattractive, but her manner is squirrely, as though she has something to hide. She leads me into a conference room where three men are waiting. I look from one to the next. The first looks to be about fifty. He's balding, and his round glasses make his face seem rounder than it is. The second is a handsome Asian guy. He looks buff, like he works out a lot. And the third is a red-haired… wait a minute, I've seen this man before. The red ponytail and the pierced ears are so familiar. Where did I see him before? As I'm contemplating it, he rises from his seat, offering me his hand.

"Ms. Steele, welcome. We're excited to interview you for the open editorial assistant position. These are my colleagues Christopher Wu, he's our creative non-fiction editor, and Peter Blodgett, our biographies and memoirs editor. I'm Jack Hyde, and I'm the fiction editor here at SIP…" _Jack Hyde, that name is familiar too_… "And of course, you've met Liz, she's our head of personnel."

I shake his hand and nod at each person as he makes the introductions. He proceeds to tell me more about the position – if I got hired, I would be joining the editorial assistant pool, working for any of the three editors alongside five other assistants. One of their assistants had recently left SIP and they were looking to replace her.

"Can I ask why she left?" I ask, and they all exchange uncomfortable looks. If that isn't a red flag, I don't know what it.

"She got an offer from a company in New York that she couldn't refuse. Her family is from the East Coast and she wanted to be closer to them." Elizabeth Morgan eventually answers me. Well, I suppose that makes sense, but then what was that look they all shared?

They ask me some questions about myself, my weaknesses and strengths, my inspirations, how I handle stressful situations, standard interview fare. And I think I do a decent job at answering them. When they ask me if I have any questions for them, I ask about company culture and their expectations for the role, and what the opportunities for advancement were. Kate prepared me well for the interview.

They tell me they will take some time to deliberate and call me with next steps. I leave feeling good about my performance. It's only eleven in the morning, so I head for my favorite café, the Tazo Tea Room. My obsession with Tazo tea led me to discovering this little café within a week of moving to Seattle, but I haven't been there in a few weeks. I'm looking forward to it. It's too far to walk so I decide to take the Link Light Rail instead. I try reading my book on the train, but I find myself coming back to the interview, and Jack Hyde, and the whole atmosphere at SIP. Something seemed a little off. But I've never worked in the publishing environment before. Maybe that's just how things are. Maybe I'm reading too much into things.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out quickly. For a moment I'm hopeful that it's him, Christian. But it's just Kate. She's texted me to ask how it went.

"I'd call you but I'm in a meeting"

"It went well, I think" I text back. "See you at dinner! Working till 8." I remind her of my City Hall shift.

"OK, we'll do a late dinner," she replies.

When I get off the train, I'm in for a surprise. The short walk to my favorite café ends in heartbreak. The Tea Room is gone. And in its place is a brand new, shiny, Starbucks.

The rest of my day goes by rather boringly. There is a park near the now-Starbucks, so I wander into it. It's close to the waterfront, and the views are beautiful. I lose myself in there for a while. Then I slowly begin making my way back towards Pike Place Market. It will take an hour and a half to walk the whole way, but I've got nothing special to do anyway, so I might as well take a long leisurely stroll back home.

My feet are killing me by the time I get back to our apartment, and I am starving. I was too nervous to eat breakfast, and its well past lunchtime by the time I get home. I raid the fridge. There's Chinese takeout left over from last night and I devour it. Then I run myself a bath and soak for a long time.

When I arrive at City Hall that evening, there's no Audi parked on the street, and Ryan is not there when I make my way down to the basement level. I feel a small twinge of disappointment. I had gotten used to having his company. He wasn't a talkative guy, but his presence was comforting. I wonder if Christian has decided I'm not worth protecting anymore. He probably doesn't want to waste any more resources on me. I'm sure he pays Ryan to do more important things than keeping me company.

It hits me when I'm punching in the keycode for the door. The red hair, the pierced ears, the name "Jack Hyde". It was here. At City Hall. This was where I met him a couple of weeks ago. He came in the same day I met Christian Grey in fact. He was weird and he creeped me out, and he wanted to know what Christian had been doing at City Hall. Could it be a coincidence that he worked at SIP? It was possible, but unlikely. I had told him I was looking for a job in publishing. I had told him I had applied to all the publishing houses in Seattle. What were the odds that he had found my application? Called me in for an interview?

_But why would he do that Ana? _I ask myself._This is beginning to sound like a crazy conspiracy theory._

No. It was probably just a coincidence. I resolve to put it out of my mind. I need a full time job soon, and if SIP makes me an offer, the beggar that I am cannot afford to be looking gift horses in the mouth. My grace period for my student loans will soon be up and then I'll have to start making the payments. I need a sustainable paycheck as soon as possible.

I've only been at my desk for five minutes when I happen to look up and my heart stops.

_He's here_.

He's leaning against the open door, one leg loosely crossed over the other. He's wearing suit pants, and a dress shirt, but his top buttons are undone, and he's holding his tie in hands, running it through his fingers absentmindedly.

How long has he been standing there?

"Hi!" I squeak, and gray eyes look back into mine, twinkling with mischief, and something else. Something darker. Something more carnal.

"Hi," he answers.

"What…. I… You're here?" goddamnit, why can I never speak a coherent sentence in his presence? He must think I'm a world class idiot.

"I thought I'd give Ryan the night off."

His voice is deep and sultry and suggestive. He's still running that tie through his fingers. His eyes never leave mine. My heart begins to race.

**A/N: Thanks as always for the follows and reviews. Next chapter will be up soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

I want to be in his arms. I want to bury my face in his chest and breathe him in. The thoughts come unbidden, and I flush in embarrassment.

"That's a lovely color," he says. He has walked up to the desk and he brushes my cheek with his hand. There it is again. Electricity.

"Can I break you out of here?" he asks me, and I wish he could. But I have to stay till eight.

"Not before eight," I tell him, shaking my head.

He growls in frustration.

"Mind if I sit down and get some work done?" he asks, and I shrug. He makes his way to one of the couches and sits down, producing a tablet from the briefcase I now notice he has, and immersing himself in the screen. He is soon lost to his work. I try to stay focused on my book, and my work, but I find myself stealing glances at him the entire time.

It is one of the busiest evenings I've had. First a couple comes in with their newborn baby still in her car seat. They have a birth notification letter from the hospital and are here to collect their baby's official birth certificate. They look young. Really young. They can't be older than eighteen. They look tired too, but he keeps his arm around her the entire time, and she leans into him. They look like they're in love, and content with each other, and the thought makes me smile. The baby is cute too. Next another couple comes in to apply for a marriage license. They're both in their mid to late twenties, high fliers by the look of it. I liked to play this game where I imagined what people's lives were like. Who they were, what they did, what their story was. So, he works in investment banking, and she was a management consultant, or a high-powered attorney. Yeah, a high-powered attorney. A divorce lawyer perhaps. A ball-buster. They lived in… a luxury condo downtown, only the penthouse would do for them. They probably won't last. Neither of them looks up from their phones, and their body language with each other implies there's a distance between them. Next is another couple also applying for their marriage license. They're a mixed-race couple. She was still wearing her Walmart work shirt, and he had a black jacket on, but the collar of his shirt was visible, and it looked to be the same blue as hers. So maybe he worked at Walmart too. Maybe they had met at work and fallen in love. I don't know what Walmart's fraternization policy was, but maybe dating your coworkers was frowned upon there. Maybe they had dated in secret for a while, for years, before everyone had found out.

Five more people come in before my shift is done, I haven't even had the chance to read my book today, but finally, it is eight o'clock and I'm free. I shut down the computer and pick up my purse. I walk over to the couch where _he _is sitting, still lost in his tablet, and I sit down next to him.

"All set?" he asks looking up and I nod.

He puts his tablet away and stands up, holding a hand out for me. I take it, and we walk out of the office, pulling the door shut behind us.

"Did you really just want to give Ryan a night off?" I ask as we walk down the hallway to the elevator, my voice teasing.

"I did," he laughs, "And I wanted to make sure you were OK."

"Why wouldn't I be OK?" I ask.

"You know, after the article?"

I must look confused because he stops. I don't know what article he is talking about.

"You haven't seen it?" he asks, and I shake my head.

He stops and pulls out his tablet again, bringing up a page from one of the local gossip sites, the Seattle Nooz.

**SEATTLE'S RICHEST BACHELOR OFF THE MARKET?**

**Hearts across Seattle broke this weekend as the elusive Christian Grey, Seattle's most eligible bachelor, was photographed in an intimate embrace with an unknown woman. To our knowledge, this is the first time Grey has publicly appeared in a photograph with a woman who is not a family member. In fact, many have speculated that Grey was gay, but this weekend's sighting seems to disprove that idea. No word yet as to who the dark-haired beauty in Grey's arms is, but rest assured the Nooz is working hard to bring you more details.**

A paparazzi photograph accompanied the article. It is of both of us, in profile, it must have been taken from across the street at Nordstrom, after I tripped and fell, and he helped me up, and I begged him to kiss me with my eyes, and he didn't.

"This is news?" I ask him. _Why does anyone care about this?_

"Everything about me is news to some people," he answers. He sounds upset by this.

"They don't know who I am," I observe.

"Not yet," he agrees. "But they will, soon. If you and I spend time with each other, people will be curious about it. They'll intrude into your life. They'll photograph you for their gossip sites. I don't want that for you."

"You want to spend time with me?" I ask. I'm feeling giddy at the thought, but I work hard to keep my excitement under wraps.

"I'm saying you shouldn't spend time with me," he answers. He's putting the tablet away again, and we resume our walk to the elevator.

"How did you find out about the article?" I ask him. "Do you make a habit of reading the.. what was it.. _Nooz_?"

"I have a PR department, Anastasia," he answers me patiently. "It's their job to know everything that's published about me. Everything."

Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. We get into the elevator, me first, then him. I press the button for the lobby, and when the doors close, the atmosphere immediately changes. I am hyperaware of him. He takes my hand and pulls me close. I breathe in the delicious smell that is him. He buries his face in my hair and I turn into him, so we're standing chest to chest.

"Ah, screw the paperwork," he groans.

_Paperwork? What paperwork?_ I wonder, and then he's kissing me, deeply. And it is everything I have ever wanted.

The elevator ride to the lobby is a short one, but in that time, he has shown me the world. I never knew kissing could be so… so… _magical_. I am awash in sensation. The feeling starts at my lips, where our mouths are joined, and it grows and builds inside me, all the way down to my core. I am filled with a great yearning for him. He groans again and crushes me against his body. I can feel how much he wants me too, and knowing that he wants me fills me with joy. By the time the elevator dings, and the doors open, I have burst into flame and my bones have melted.

"Have dinner with me?" he asks, pulling away at last.

I can only nod. My voice has left me. I'm sure it will never return.

Taylor is waiting outside with the car, yet another Audi, and he holds the rear door open for me._Has he really been waiting out here this whole time? _I thank him as I get in, and Christian climbs in behind me. He texts someone rapidly as the car rolls away from the curb and into the flow of traffic.

"Where are we going for dinner?" I ask.

"My place," he answers. "Is that OK? I just let my housekeeper know I'll be having a dinner guest tonight."

"OK." _He has a housekeeper? _Of course, he has a housekeeper. He's a freaking billionaire. He's probably always working and needs someone to make sure things are running well at home so he can focus on his business. I find myself wondering where he lives. He probably has a fancy mansion on Mercer Island or Queen Anne or another super exclusive one-percenter neighborhood of Seattle.

He puts the phone away and reaches for me. And then we are kissing again. Passionately. I'm a little nervous about Taylor being able to see what's happening in the back of the car, but _his _mouth is demanding, and the feelings it inspires riotous. Soon, I couldn't give a fuck who saw what. He groans. I moan. His hands travel down my body. I try to reciprocate, but he immediately stops me, holding my hands prisoner with his own while he continues to claim my mouth. Too soon, the car ride comes to an end, and we reluctantly separate. We only drove for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. We must still be downtown. He gives me a gentle peck on the lips. He nuzzles my neck. And then he straightens up and opens his door.

My clothing is in disarray, and I take a moment to make myself presentable, and then he is on the other side of the car, opening my door for me and offering me a hand. We are in a parking garage surrounded by six or seven Audis including a beautiful sports car that looks like it cost more than my dad's house in Montesano is worth. We walk to one of the doors that leads into the lobby. There is a doorman's desk in the lobby, and above it a sign saying "Escala". All I know about Escala is that it is a fancy schmancy luxury condo building in downtown Seattle. Kate had desperately wanted an apartment here, but the prices had been too rich even for her wealthy father.

We head into the elevator and Taylor uses a special key to get the penthouse button to work. The elevator ride is silent and awkward. I'm remembering our last elevator ride at City Hall, and I feel myself blushing. Christian impulsively takes my hand and squeezes it as though to tell me without words, _I remember too_. When we walk into the penthouse, I'm immediately blown away. His home is sparsely furnished, but beautiful. Taylor disappears somewhere, and a blond woman appears. She is probably in her early forties and has a friendly face.

"Good evening Mr. Grey," she greets him.

"Good evening Mrs. Jones. This is Ms. Anastasia Steele; she will be joining me for dinner this evening. We'll be ready to eat in twenty minutes." _Is he always this commanding?_

"Very well, Mr. Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Steele." She is looking at me curiously, so I smile at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too Mrs. Jones," I tell her before Christian leads me away. We walk up a flight of stairs into a hallway with a few closed doors on each side. He stops at one.

"I'm going to show you my playroom," he says.

_Playroom?_"Like for your X-box?" I ask. I never pegged him for a gamer. When would he have time to play games while running a billion-dollar enterprise?

He laughs. "No, Anastasia. Not that kind of playroom. Just please, keep an open mind, alright?"

I nod, and he unlocks the door, waiting for me to walk in before flipping the light switch on.

_Holy shit!_

**A/N: Happy fourth to those in the US! Thanks for reading and following and reviewing. I wasn't initially going to include the playroom at all, but the story just seemed to be headed that way. Also, this chapter felt like it was getting too long so I split it into two, so the next one should be coming really soon as I've almost finished it. Also, also: Ana is going to tell Christian about Hyde, don't worry, I just need a way for it to happen naturally in the flow of conversation.**


	7. Chapter 7

I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and walked into a serial killer's lair. The room is red, oppressively so. The walls are red, the furniture is made from a dark cherry wood and upholstered in red leather. The giant bed is covered in red silk sheets. And there are implements of torture everywhere. I guess somewhere deep inside I knew he was too good to be true. Everyone's got a dark side, and this one must be his.

"Please don't hurt me," I say to him in as calm a voice as I can muster.

"I would never hurt you!" he answers adamantly. He is upset with me, I think. But why would he be? What reason would he have for bringing me into his torture chamber other than to hurt me?

"Why would you think I would hurt you?" he asks me. Damn, he sounds hurt. I really must have hurt his feelings.

"This room…" I say.

"The purpose of this room is pleasure, Anastasia," he tells me.

_Yes of course. His pleasure. That he gets. From torturing people in here._

"Not just my pleasure," he adds. Can he read my mind?

"Whose then?" I ask.

"My partner's," he answers simply.

"Do you do this to your partners, or do they do this to you?"

"I have been on both ends of the stick, so to speak," he answers with a wry grin. "But I prefer to be the one doing it."

"Women let you do this?" I can't believe it. "There are women who let you whip them, and flog them, and torture them?" my voice sounds as incredulous as I feel.

"There is no torture involved, Ana. But yes, they do. And just so we are clear, I require enthusiastic consent. No one is ever forced into anything, and everyone's limits are always respected."

Well, that just shows how much I know. Which isn't much. I've never even had sex. I am unschooled in the ways of the world I suppose, but even in my wildest imagination, I never thought anything like this happened out there. But at least he's not a serial killer. _Phew_. I'm feeling braver, so I begin walking around the room. I touch the posters on the bed. It's the biggest bed I've ever seen. I brush my hands against the floggers, feel the cold steel of the handcuffs, I'm even brave enough to open a few drawers and examine the contents. There are lengths of rope, cable ties, clamps, vibrators, dildos, beads… _Beads? What are those for?_I'm not sure I want to know though, so I don't ask. Christian remains rooted to the spot, by the door. Silently watching me as silently I examine the room. Finally, I am done and walk back towards the door, stopping when I'm about a foot away from him. I'm a little afraid of this man. I find myself feeling like a little mouse again. I have no business spending time with a lion in his den.

"Say something," he demands.

I shake my head and feel my face contorting into a pained expression.

"Anastasia, please say something."

"Do you only date women who let you do this to them?" I ask.

"I don't date, Anastasia," he says. He says it so nonchalantly.

"What?"

"The women I bring here are my submissives. They're not girlfriends. It's a contractual agreement where they agree to meet my needs, mostly in this room, sometimes outside of it, but never outside of my home. I don't usually do the girlfriend thing."

"Oh." Well, better to know now than before I got more involved, I suppose. What was I thinking? Christian Grey was way out of my league even before I knew about the red room of pain.

"I don't think I could do that, be in that kind of relationship," I say to him. "I would want more."

"Oh, Ana, don't you see? That's not what I want from you."

"It's not?"

"No!" He closes the gap between us, taking my hand in his. "What you make me feel, Anastasia, I have never felt before. I don't want you as my submissive. Don't get me wrong, I do eventually want to explore this room with you, but I want more, too."

"You do?" I can feel the wariness leave me, and the joy spark again.

"I do," he confirms. "I have never wanted more before, but I do with you. I showed you this room because I want you to know what you're getting into. I come with a lot of baggage, Anastasia."

"Everyone is flawed," I whisper to him.

"I'm beyond flawed, Ana. I'm fifty shades of fucked up," he answers in a pained tone.

"But you want more with me?" I'm still unsure.

"I do. Give it a chance. No contracts, no paperwork, just you and me. Let's just try, OK?"

_What do I want?_ Is that even a question? Of course, I want this man. I want to date him. I want to make out with him a lot more. And I want to jump into bed with him and make love with him. I want to get to know him. I want to fall asleep in his arms and wake up beside him.

"Ana?"

"Yes, OK." I say, and he's kissing me again. Urgently. And oh, I would kiss him forever if I could. We eventually make our way to the big bed and end up collapsing on top of it, me first, and he on top of me. My dress has ridden up to my waist, and his hand slips underneath it. He's touching me, cupping the swell of my breast, pinching my nipples, caressing my belly, my sides, my thighs. And all the while his mouth never leaves mine. I reach to touch him, and he freezes.

"Please don't touch my chest or my back," he says. "Please."

OK, weird, but I nod, and run my hands up and down his arms. I can feel the powerful muscles rippling underneath his clothes. Holy shit, he's jacked.

"Is this OK?" I ask him as I touch his arms.

He nods, and visibly relaxes and our mouths resume their sensual tango. His hand slips into my panties and my breath hitches, and then he's touching me, _there_, and _oooooooh my goooood that feels incredible_, and a moan escapes from my throat. He groans in answer. Then my tummy rumbles loudly.

Fuck. I'm so embarrassed. He's chuckling. He chuckles harder as my tummy rumbles a second time.

"Right, dinner," he says, pulling away from me with a last, tender kiss.

_No. Don't stop. I don't want to stop. I want you to touch me again, there. I want you to kiss me. I want you to teach me what making love is._

I don't say the words, though. Instead, I stand up and follow him out of the red room. I wait as he locks the door and we walk down the stairs and back to the kitchen together. We are just in time for dinner. Mrs. Jones is plating it when we walk in.

"Bon appetit," she says to us with a smile, before disappearing from the kitchen.

Christian and I sit next to each other as we enjoy the meal. Mrs. Jones has made duck breast with apricot chutney and oven roasted vegetables and it is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. I wonder if she is a trained chef. The only time I ever ate at a fancy restaurant was during our freshman year in college, when Kate and I were first roommates and her parents took us out for dinner after moving her in. And even then, that meal didn't compare to this one. The duck was delectable, it melted in my mouth. The chutney was out of this world. And the vegetables were subtly spiced and had a hint of sugar from the carrots and parsnips caramelizing in the oven. I eat everything on my plate, and Christian smiles in approval.

"I should probably offer you desert, but I think I'd rather have you for desert instead," he says in a low voice when we're both done eating. _Oh my_. I flush, and he brushes my cheek with his fingers.

"That's a lovely color," he says.

His phone buzzes, and he takes it out of his pocket, a frown marring his perfect face.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this," he apologizes, squeezing my arm as he gets up from his seat.

"That's fine," I reassure him.

"What do you have for me, Welch?" he says into the phone as he walks into what I assume is his home office based on the large desk that is visible through the door. He closes the door behind him, and while I wait for him to be done, I find my purse and fish my phone out of it.

I have eight text messages and several missed calls.

_Shit_.

I was supposed to have dinner with Kate!

I feel terrible. Kate has been such a wonderful friend to me, and she's always made time for me, and I stood her up. I dial her number and she answers on the first ring.

"Ana! Are you OK? Where are you? I was so worried! I went to city hall and no one was there! Did something happen?" She sounds frantic.

"Kate, calm down. I'm OK. I'm so sorry I didn't call, and I missed dinner. It slipped my mind. I'm so sorry Kate, please forgive me. I'll make it up to you!"

"You're OK?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Where are you?"

"Can I tell you when I get home? I promise I'm safe."

"OK Ana. See you later."

"Bye Kate!"

I hang up the phone. Christian is still locked away in his office, so I navigate to my Instagram app. I don't post much, but I like to follow my friends on there, and a few celebrities. I change my profile picture to one of Mt. St. Helens that I took during a college hiking trip sophomore year with some friends, and then set it so that my profile is private. Then I do the same with the rest of my social media accounts. If Christian and I are going to try for _more_, someone will soon get a clear image of my face, and I don't want to make it any easier for them to find me.

A notification pops up. It's a new email, from an SIP address. I click on it eagerly, and my face breaks into a smile.

"Something interesting on your phone Ms. Steele?"

Oh. He's done with his phone call. I didn't hear him leave the office.

"I got a job offer," I tell him.

"Congratulations," he says. "Where?"

"SIP. It's a small independent publishing house in Seattle. I interviewed this morning for an editorial assistant position. I didn't expect them to make a decision so fast."

"Is that what you want to do? Publishing?" he asks.

"I would like to eventually work my way up to being editor," I answer.

"But is that what you're passionate about?"

"It's close enough. I love books. I love literature. In an ideal world, I would want to be a writer."

"So, what's stopping you?"

"I have bills to pay, silly. Writing doesn't pay the bills when you're an unknown nobody like me. I need to establish myself first, pay off all my student debt."

"So, you're going to work in publishing instead of doing what you really want to do." He states it matter-of-factly.

"For now, at least," I agree.

"What drew you to SIP?" he asks.

"Well, I applied to every publishing house in Seattle. They were the only ones who gave me an interview. So, I don't really have much of a choice. I don't know how long I'll last there, but I need to give it a go. For the sake of my bank account and the aforementioned bills."

"Why do you say that? That you don't know how long you'll last there?" He has poured us both a glass of wine. I take a sip. It's deliciously crisp.

"I just got a weird vibe. Something felt off, with the people there. And this guy, one of the editors, Jack Hyde, he just gives the creeps a little. It's nothing he's done, just my gut doesn't trust him. And he showed up at city hall when I was working a while back. He was asking about you, actually. It was the day we met. And he wanted to know what you were doing at city hall."

"Really…" he fishes out his phone and begins textng rapidly.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Looking into Jack Hyde," he answers, before drawing me in for a kiss. _Yes. This I enjoy. More kissing please. More touching._

"I am a great believer in listening to your gut, Ana," he says suddenly. "If your gut is telling you not to work at SIP, you shouldn't do it."

"It's easy to say that when you're a billionaire. I have bills to pay, Christian. I have student loans to repay. I have to eat, and live, and survive. I have a hundred and thirty-two dollars left in my account. I can't afford to turn down this job. It would be financially irresponsible."

"Ana, you're my girlfriend now. I can help you. You don't have to worry about bills."

_No. No._

"You are NOT going to give me money. I won't take it."

His jaw twitches. He's displeased. And I can understand why. I doubt many people dare to say no to him. But I won't be bought. And I won't have people thinking I'm a gold digger.

"Ana, be reasonable - "

"No," I interrupt. "I don't want to be kept."

"I wouldn't be keeping you. I'd be taking care of you. I mean, I'm not the biggest expert on this, but that's what people do in relationships, isn't it? They take care of each other?"

I'm adamant. "No."

He sighs in frustration and runs his hand through his coppery locks.

"Just. Let. Me. Help. You." He's gritting his teeth.

"No. I'm taking the job. I'm paying my own bills. I'm going to make my own way in the world, just like I always have. And don't you dare do anything to interfere with that."

Suddenly I'm exhausted. And the mood has changed. He's upset with me, I can tell. I feel tears welling up and blink them away before he can notice. We are never going to work. We're from two different worlds. How could we ever work?

"I want to go home, now please," I tell him, picking up my purse.

"Ana, please stay," he implores.

But I can't stay. I need breathing space. I need to be away from him, and the physical effect he has on me, to think clearly. I need to talk to Kate.

"I should go," I say, and I walk to the elevator.

"Taylor will take you home," he calls.

"No need. I'll walk."

I can hear his growl of frustration as the elevator doors close behind me. When I get to the lobby, Ryan is there, waiting for me.

"Mr. Grey said I was to walk you home," he told me.

I don't know what it is about seeing Ryan. Maybe his familiar face. Maybe the sense of safety I have around him. Maybe it's the tentative friendship I've built with him. But I see him, and the dam I've been holding back bursts. And I dissolve into tears.

"Oh Ms. Steele…", he says sympathetically, and he produces a handkerchief out of one of his pockets and hands it to me. And then he hugs me.

"He's a good man, Mr. Grey," Ryan says to me.

"I know he is, Ryan," I blubber, wiping my tears away with the folded handkerchief. He's right. I do believe Christian is a good man. Red room of pain or not. If anything, he's way too good for me.

Ryan holds the door open for me, and we walk out into the dark night.

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Honestly things have just been so busy it's been hard to find time to write. But I'm glad I got some time today to finish this up. Next week will probably be pretty busy too, but I'll try to get some writing in as well.**


	8. Chapter 8

When I get home, I find that Kate has fallen asleep on the couch, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I would probably burst into tears if I had to explain where I had been.

I'm a bundle of nerves all day Tuesday. I spend it checking my phone every five minutes. I wonder if he'll call me, or text me, or anything. But he doesn't. And I dare not call him or text him. I'm afraid that if I do, and he doesn't answer, then I'll know for sure that he's done with me. As the day wears on, I find it difficult to hold back my tears. He _has _realized that we are not compatible. He's decided to call it quits. And I can't blame him. Kate eventually asks me what happened and I tell her simply that I had had dinner with Christian Grey but that we probably wouldn't be seeing each other again.

I do the opposite on Wednesday. I silence my phone and shove it into my bedside drawer first thing. I'm choosing to ignore it today. I go out on a run. I never, ever run, but I feel the need to do so this morning. I run as hard as I can, as long as I can. And then I make my way home and step into the shower. I stand under the cascading water until it runs cold and I've turned into a prune. Then I get out, dry myself with one of the luxuriously fluffy towels that Kate purchased for our apartment and crawl into my bed as naked as the day I was born. I haven't eaten anything today, and the exhaustion of my morning run hits hard. I'm asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, and I don't wake until the next morning.

It's Thursday. Work day. And I spend the day willing the hours to go faster. Last time I had to work, he was there. _Will he be there today?_ I have butterflies in my stomach all day long. Finally, it's time for me to head in to work. There is the black audi faithfully parked outside City Hall. I feel a tiny glimmer of hope ignite inside me. But when I get to the basement, Ryan is there. Not Christian. _Well, at least he's still sending Ryan over_. Not all hope is lost.

On Friday, Kate drags me to the beach, along with her new work friend Sue Turner. They have the day off work, and Kate and I have been meaning to explore the beaches ever since we moved here. The weather is uncharacteristically co-operative, and being a weekday, Alki Beach isn't too crowded. I lose myself in my book, and the beautiful view of Puget Sound with the little glimpse of Mt. Rainier in the background, occasionally listening in to Kate and Sue's chatter about coworker drama at the Seattle times where they both have been working as Associate Reporters since graduation. Sue is the same age as Kate and I, and she's from Seattle, but she went to school somewhere on the East Coast.

I spend most of the day without thinking of Christian, and I'm grateful to Kate for that. She makes us have fun. We explore the tide pools, and sunbathe, and are brave enough to take a dip in the very cold waters when the tide returns. Kate takes tons of pictures for her Instagram. I look at them before she posts, and I'm surprised at how happy and carefree I look in the photos. I certainly don't feel happy and carefree, but I have to admit I have had a good time with Kate and Sue. We discover a beach café with delicious fresh-baked cinnamon rolls which we gorge ourselves on while my companions flirt with a couple of cute guys hanging out at the beach. The two guys only had eyes for Kate and Sue, who are both attractive, leggy, blondes. I end up feeling like a third wheel and decide to take a walk along the beach by myself.

I miss Christian. And I'm an idiot. I should just swallow my pride and text him. Or call him. Oh wait. My phone is still in my bedside drawer. It's been in there since Wednesday. Oh fuck. What if he tried to reach me? He'll think I was ignoring him. He'll think I've given up on us. Suddenly, I feel an urgent need to return home at once. I turn back towards the café to find Kate and Sue, but they are coming up to me.

"Where'd you run off to, Steele?" Kate asks me. "Is everything ok?"

"I just needed some air," I tell her. "Can we go home?"

"Yes, but you have to come out with us tonight," Kate tells me.

"Kate, I'm tired…"

"Please Ana, please! I promised that cute guy from the café I would meet him tonight. Don't let me go alone!" She pleads.

There's no point fighting Kate. She's like a hurricane, forceful. She always gets what she wants. She'll keep needling me till I cave.

"Fine," I grumble. "But I'm raiding your closet." Both Kate and Sue cheer.

"I already have the perfect outfit in mind for you!" Kate gushes. "You're going to look stunning. Every straight man in that club is going to want a piece of you."

"What club are we going to anyway?" I ask.

"The Mile High Club. Apparently, it's popping on Friday nights," Kate answers.

"Yeah, it's the place to be! And the views are to die for," Sue adds.

We make our way to Kate's sweet ride, a jet-black BMW 4 series convertible that was a graduation gift from her parents, and she drives us back to Pike Place Market. Kate has the top down and is blasting Kiss FM while we sing along with the top 40 hits. We definitely attract some looks from other commuters on the road, some amused, many disapproving, but we don't care.

It's six o'clock when we get to our apartment, and we have time to kill before heading to the club. I'm holding my breath when I retrieve my phone. My battery is almost out, and I quickly plug it into the charger. There are no missed calls, and the only text is from my mother, asking me to call her, but there is a new email from him, he sent it early Wednesday morning.

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: I'm sorry**

**Dear Ana,**

**I have been called away to Hong Kong on urgent business, but I would like to talk things over when I return. Would you have dinner with me Saturday night?**

**Christian Grey**

**CEO Grey Enterprise Holdings**

I can't hold back my smile as I reply with just one word. Yes.

Kate orders sushi for dinner on her Uber Eats account, and we all settle into the couch to watch a movie on Netflix. Two and a half hours later, the end credits are rolling over the screen and we all cram into Kate's room picking out our outfits. Kate picks out a pair of tiny ivory Gucci shorts that show off her long legs and pairs it with a mostly sheer black body suit with long sleeves. Sue decides on a red leather mini skirt with asymmetrical zipper detailing down the front and pairs it with an understated black crop top. Then they both turn to me and look at me appraisingly before pouncing. _Oh no, what did I get myself into_?

Hundreds of giggle fits, five outfit changes, and a shower later, I am dressed in an azure blue corseted bodycon mini dress with embroidery detailing. It's a beautiful dress, the blue makes my eyes sparkle, and the corseting works like a push up bra, making my boobs look like a million bucks. I let Kate talk me into wearing her ridiculous heels again. Kate braids my long hair into a loose fishtail braid and Sue does my makeup. When I look into the mirror, I'm shocked by what I see. I'm actually holding my own against Kate and Sue, and they're both gorgeous.

"You look amazing, Ana!" Kate gushes. "The uber is here, let's go!"

The Mile High Club is packed when we walk in, but there's a group leaving just as we come in and we quickly snag their seats. Kate explains that the club is only open to the public on select Friday nights. The music is blasting, and people are dancing and having a good time. Kate heads over to the bar and orders us a round of martinis, and then another, and another. I'm not a heavy drinker, so by the time I finish my fifth drink, my head is spinning, and my inhibitions are non-existent. I feel great, and I make my way over to the dance floor and begin dancing by myself. I can feel eyes on me, but I don't care. I'm probably making a fool of myself, but I decide that tonight I'm going to have fun.

"Hey Ana," a voice whispers in my ear and I turn around. I blink to make sure I'm seeing clearly.

"Todd?" I ask.

It's Todd Charland. I never thought I would see the bastard ever again.

"Wanna dance?" he asks, and even before I have a chance to answer, he has pulled me into his arms and begins grinding against me.

"Where's your girlfriend?" I ask him, shouting to be heard above the music and the noise of the crowd.

"We broke up!" he shouts back. He smiles a megawatt smile that lights up his face. He's a handsome guy, I can't deny that, but Christian still blows him out of the water. Todd pulls me closer and turns me around, so my back is flush against his belly. I can feel him getting hard through his clothing. He begins to run his arms my abs, down my sides, and over my hips. _No_. Even through my drunken haze, I know this is wrong.

"Tell me if I go too far," he whispers gruffly in my ear as one of his hands grabs my butt.

"No! Stop!" I manage to choke out, and to his credit, he does. His hands fall away from me, and he steps away. I need to find Kate. I need to go home. I am way too wasted to be here. I stumble my way around the dance floor. _Where were we sitting? Where is Kate? Where is Sue?_

I am just about to panic when someone grabs my arm and I look up into a pair of furious gray eyes. Christian is here. And he's thunderously mad.

"You're coming with me," he says, leading me away from the dance floor.

"No! I came with Kate! I have to find Kate!" I tell him, digging in my heels.

"Taylor will find Ms. Kavanagh," he tells me tersely, and Taylor nods and disappears. Christian continues leading me… _where_? Where is he taking me? We walk all the way to the back of the club, and he takes me into a private room.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"VIP room," he answers in a clipped tone.

"It's one of the perks of knowing the club's owner," another voice says, and for the first time, I notice the other man who has been following us through the club. He's just as tall as Christian, and just as broad shouldered. He has curly blond hair and blue eyes. He's handsome too.

"Hi," he says, extending a hand. "I'm Elliot. Christian's brother." They look nothing alike.

Elliot is looking at me with great curiosity. I shake his hand and am about to introduce myself when the door opens, and Kate comes walking in. I catch a glimpse of Taylor before he closes the door behind Kate.

"Ana! I was so worried when I couldn't find you!" she tells me, giving me a hug.

"Hi Kate," I say weakly. I really don't feel good. I should have known better than to let myself get this messed up.

"Where's Sue?" I ask, worried. We were all supposed to be looking out for each other tonight.

"She ran into Todd Charland," Kate snorts. "They're currently devouring each other on the dance floor."

"WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK, ANA!" Christian suddenly shouts and everyone jumps. I knew this was coming. I turn towards him. He's glowering. Oh shit. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DRESSED LIKE THAT? DANCING LIKE THAT? LETTING A STRANGER TOUCH YOU LIKE THAT?"

"Christian…" I begin, but he's not done with his tirade.

"Is that who you want? That gorilla pawing you on the dance floor?" He sounds hurt. _No, I don't want anyone else but you_.

"First of all, he's not a stranger, Todd and I have been on a date before. I know him. And secondly, I didn't dance with him, Christian. I was dancing by myself, and he just showed up and grabbed me. I didn't encourage it I swear. I told him to stop, and he did." I'm trying to pacify him, but I don't think it's working.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to find the bastard and tear him limb from limb!"

And I believe he really would have, but Elliot steps in and stops him with a _Whoa, bro! Take a chill pill_.

Suddenly, I can't hold it in anymore. My stomach heaves, and I look around the room desperately. There is a potted plant in one corner and I sprint towards it, making it just in time. My stomach is unable to hold the alcohol any longer and I vomit spectacularly into the potted plant. Christian is quickly by my side, and he puts one arm around my shoulder, ignoring my attempts to push him away. He holds me while I empty the contents of my stomach again and again, until there's nothing left and I'm bringing up bile. When will it stop? Dear god when will it stop. I promise to never drink again, just please, make it stop. I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I want to be anywhere else but here. Finally, it stops. I am mortified. I am humiliated. I risk a glance at Christian. The anger has left his face, and he only looks concerned now. He hands me a freshly laundered linen handkerchief with his initials in one corner and I wipe my mouth with it. I am ashamed. I am disgusted with myself. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Hong Kong?" I ask him.

"I just got back two hours ago. Elliot dragged me out, said he needed a wing man," he chuckles.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to him.

"What are you sorry for, Anastasia?" he whispers back, and there is an edge to his voice.

"For getting drunk. For putting myself in the situation that allowed Todd to touch me the way he did. For being sick. For not replying to your email until tonight. It wasn't on purpose, I lost track of my phone."

"Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"I never get drunk, and I never will again." I promise contritely. I truly have no desire to ever get drunk again. The buzz isn't worth feeling like this. I push back from the potted plant and slowly rise to my feet. Kate and Elliot have cozied up to each other on one of the couches. He's whispering in her ear, and she's laughing softly. My eyes widen. Oh my gosh, I think Kate is in like. She really likes him! I start towards the couches, and then stop. I'm feeling faint. I begin to sway, and Christian is instantly beside me, holding me up.

"I'm taking you home," he says.

"Oh no! Wait a minute!" Kate springs up. "She's wasted, and you're not taking her anywhere!"

"I'm taking my girlfriend home, Ms. Kavanagh," Christian shrugs.

"Girlfriend?" Elliot exclaims, and he's back to looking at me with curiosity in his eyes. "Dude, I thought you were gay!"

"Shut up, Lelliot!" Christian tells him, exasperated. "Let's go, Ana," he says to me.

"Last I heard you two weren't going to be seeing each other anymore," Kate snipes at Christian.

Christian is looking at me with confusion in his eyes, and I shake my head at him. "It's fine, Kate. I want to go with Christian."

Kate harrumphs, but she nods.

"Will you make sure Sue is OK?" I ask, and she nods again.

"Taylor!" Christian has opened the door, and is calling out for Taylor, who was standing just outside.

"Yes Mr. Grey?"

"If the asshole that was dancing with Ms. Steele earlier is still in the club, find him and kick him out. I want him banned for life. Then meet us in the garage. Ms. Steele and I are leaving."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," and just like that, Taylor is gone.

"Christian," I protest, "You can't have someone kicked out of the club just for dancing with me!"

"It's my club," he answers arrogantly. "I can kick out whomever I want, for whatever reason. You're mine, and he touched you. He's lucky I didn't have him castrated."

I want to argue some more but my thoughts are crashing into each other. My field of vision is narrowing. It's too warm. Too loud. Too bright. I am rushing headlong into the floor.

"Fuck!" I hear Christian curse, as he catches me before I crash into the floor. It's the last thing I hear before everything goes black.

**A/N: Thank you for sticking with me and I apologize once again for the slow pace. I should be much less busy in a couple of weeks and hopefully things will pick up with the writing then. I'm still not sure where this story is going, but I really dislike the Jose storyline in the books, so I decided to just completely omit his character in my story. FYI I also don't like book Kate that much, but I think Ana needs a good girl friend, so I kept her. Coming soon… Christian and Ana spend a weekend together, we learn more about why Christian was looking for details on his birth mother, and Ana starts her new job the following Monday.**


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